Not All Are Great
by dinadan256
Summary: One-Shot: Not every OC can be great or influential or even motivated. Someone from our world gets reborn as a wizard and has to get Sorted, like any other child. An attempt at an unconventional sorting.


**Not All Are Great**

Watching one kid being sorted after the other was kind of fun, though waiting for Potter was a lot more tedious than reading about it. Val wished he'd still remembered what the hat was telling the nervous, little boy, beyond that he fit in more than one house. Alas, details like that had been the first to go as he had grown up in his new life. Maybe he should have written them down. Although being reborn into what was supposed to be a fictional setting was not quite what the brown haired kid had expected after his death, so maybe it could be forgiven as a temporary lapse of judgement. Not to mention that it would have been a lot more work than he had been willing to do, especially after finding out that as a preschooler his writing was a lot more atrocious than he remembered it being.

"Raines, Oliver." Professor McGonagall called forth next.

Val didn't even remember that one. Well, there were bound to be lots of students who were never introduced in the books. Oh well, can't be that difficult to learn a bunch of new names. Applause followed and the boy marched over to the Hufflepuff table.

"Ramsey, Valentine." And there was Val's name.

The prepubescent boy's left eye twitched. He never had liked his given name. Considering that he grew up in various foster families, – turned out accidental magic really was disturbing to most muggles – he really hoped it hadn't been his parents who saddled him with it. On the other hand, being named by his parents meant that he had actually something that belonged to him. Even if it was a name lots of kids had made fun of. He walked over to the chair, sat down and within moments the ratty hat was on his head.

'Watch who you call 'ratty', brat,' an amused voice said from nowhere.

Val resisted the urge to look around, like a few children had done. It was quite odd to hear someone – or something in this case – inside your head. 'Just get on with. The faster we are done here, the better.'

'You make it sound so easy, when you, mister, are quite a difficult one. It's not every day I get to sort someone living a second life. Not that you remember much of your previous life.' The hat sounded genuinely intrigued.

'Please, spare me the whole 'You could do well in different houses' spiel. Just tell me where I'd fit.' It wasn't impatience on the boy's part. He just didn't want to stand out the way the Potter kid had involuntarily done.

'O-HOHOH! Someone has a high opinion of himself! That's not even remotely my problem. You see, it's more about finding the house you are least unsuited for,' the hat told him smugly.

'What?' Again his left eye twitched.

'You can't possibly misunderstand me.'

Val frowned. 'And you can't possibly be serious.'

'Then how about a little breakdown of the Houses, then? Not like we are in a hurry,' The Talking head sniggered, much to the child's frustration. 'Gryffindor is the House for those with courage in their hearts. While you aren't quite a coward, you would much rather avoid any and all confrontations. Not to mention that chivalry might as well be a swear word to you.'

'Hardly my fault that I have a sense of self-preservation,' Val nearly grumbled out loud.

'You do, don't you? Well, Hufflepuff isn't for you either. You are very picky with your loyalty and hard work is to you what sunlight is to vampires. Or at least close to it.'

'So I don't like effort, but I AM pretty smart,' the boy insisted stubbornly.

'That you are. A shame then that for all your intelligence you have less curiosity than a sloth. Let's not mince words here, your intellect is your one saving grace, but Ravenclaw is for those interested in acquiring knowledge. Not those that would actively avoid it.'

''You make me sound like a total loser, but all that slacking takes a lot of cunning. There is a house for that,' Val retorted with surprising confidence.

'You know kid, it worries me that you can hear all your short-comings listed and still be so full of yourself.'

'Everyone bears their own cross. Or something like that.'

'That's not…' it seemed to take a deep breath. 'You make it incredibly hard to believe you aren't an eleven year old,' the talking had declared flabbergasted. 'Yes, there is Slytherin, the House of cunning, which you admittedly have in spades as it happens to relate to your brand of intelligence. However, it also happens to be the house of ambition. And your only ambition is to find a coach to laze around on. And that doesn't even get into your problem that you are obviously not a pure-blood.' The hat rather gently pointed out.

'So I'll lie have to talk my way out of some trouble, big-deal.' The lazy kid gave the hat the mental equivalent of a shrug. 'Besides, you have to sort me somewhere, right?'

'That I do, but shouldn't you care more about your presence in this, let's call it 'reality'?' Every hint of playful mockery had left the hat's tone.

'You know I can't remember much of anything. Don't even know how I looked last time. Only bits and pieces missing context.' Val thought miserably. Suddenly his mood improved. 'So I'll take it easy and take things as they come.'

A long suffering sigh echoed through his head. 'Just try not to forget that the truth has a habit of revealing itself.'

"Slytherin!"

The deputy headmistress took the hat and went back to her list of names. Val meanwhile walked leisurely to the Slytherin table. His future housemates were clapping rather enthusiastically, though some looked like they were seizing him up.

The boy ran a hand through his brown hair and tried to remember what the 'pure-blood' comment was all about. That had some signific… right, it was about that racial purity thing. How could he forget? Well, as he had told the hat, he'd just lie to them. Not like they can look into his records. Plus, they were kids. Confidence was all Val needed to sell them anything, confidence and vagueness. It would be easy.

So he sat down, next to a blonde girl and opposite of a weedy boy. That was when Val realized something that he kind of ignored and what had reliably come back to bite him in the ass: He was a kid, too.


End file.
